


Dreams Last So Long (Even After You're Gone)

by ConsultingWriter



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Based on a song, Damian Being Damian, Jon is too good for him, M/M, a getting back together fic, adult fic, first fic of the fandom, kind of bittersweet, post break-up fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: Jon's getting by after Damian broke up with him. Barely getting by, but still. It's good enough. It has to be.Five weeks. He’d been in his new apartment for five weeks and he felt like he was finally starting to settle in. The apartment was spacious but not too much. Not like the three-bedroom monstrosity he’d lived in before. Not that he’d let himself think of ‘before’ very often within the past few weeks.





	Dreams Last So Long (Even After You're Gone)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic for the Batman fandom. I hope ya'll like it.  
> The song this is based off of it "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel, its a good listen.  
> Un-beta'd.

Okay so Jon would admit it; he’d briefly considered having four-day old Chinese takeout for breakfast. But he hadn’t! Instead he’d dragged his head out of his ass long enough to pour water into pre-packaged pancake mix and pushed himself through the semi-tortuous effort of cracking eggs. The result was smiley face pancakes and a heaping pile of scrambled eggs. He returned the whipped cream grin savagely and jabbed his fork right through his pancake’s eye.

Five weeks. He’d been in his new apartment for five weeks and he felt like he was finally starting to settle in. The apartment was spacious but not too much. Not like the three-bedroom monstrosity he’d lived in before. Not that he’d let himself think of ‘before’ very often within the past few weeks.

He finished his breakfast with a yawn and a stretch and—with a quick glance at the clock—tucked his plates into the sink for later. It was closer to 6 then he expected and he still needed a shower before heading out for the day.

Showering was quick, just a simple soap up and rinse off of all the important bits before stepping out to brush his teeth in the barely fogged mirror. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the towel-less tile floor. There’d always been towels left on the floor _before_ , no matter how much he’d complained. He hummed in satisfaction and ignored the bitter taste in his mouth.

Choosing a shirt to wear was easy, choosing a tie was harder. He’d been told that his patterned blue tie matched his personality and brought out his eyes, and it was his favorite, but it had been a gift from Before and Jon couldn’t bring himself to wear it so soon. Instead he chose a flat black, tugged on his slacks and a jacket, and headed out the door. 

He kept his head down as he ducked through the door and tried, furtively to sneak to his desk. The one bad thing about his decision to be a journalist meant that the only feasible place to work in Metropolis was the Daily Planet. Which meant working in the same building as his parents; and usually that was fine but. But he’d been dodging his mom’s calls and he just _knew_ that today was going to be the day she cornered him.

He was right. Minutes before his lunch break she’d swooped down on him like a bird of prey on a lame rabbit. Whispers burst out form the other first year reporters and interns as THE Lois Lane strode down the rows of desks with a purpose Jon hadn’t seen in his mom’s gate since the LexCorp Sex Scandal story she’d covered a year and a half ago.

She planted a firm hand down on his desk and looked at him through narrowed eyes, “Clock out and come with me.”

Jon swallowed but did as asked, rising slowly from his desk and trailing behind her demurely. He might have been the Son of Superman but Lois Lane was his wife and Jon’s mother. She handled two Kryptonians on a regular basis and wasn’t a woman to be messed with.

She frowned at him as she dropped the blinds on his office, “Stop looking life you’re headed to the gallows, your just having lunch with your mom.”

She paused.

“You know, the one who’s phone calls you’ve been avoiding.”

Jon groaned, “Mom please, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

Lois sunk into her plush chair calmly, crossing one leg neatly over the other, “You don’t want to talk about what?” She asked cocking an eyebrow up and Jon knew she was about to go in for the kill.

“The fact that your five-year relationship with your first and only boyfriend and former best friend ended six weeks ago and you haven’t even begun to deal with it yet?”

Ouch. Right to the heart of it. Jon straightened his shoulders and returned her frown, “What’s there to deal with? I came home one day only for Damian to tell me that it wasn’t working out for him any longer and then he asked if I could leave, so that’s what I did. There’s not much to do about it now.”

Lois slumped and sighed, “Jon, baby,” she reached across the desk and he slipped his own large hands into hers, “there are other boys out there, and I know you’ll get over this, but you’ve got to let yourself feel it first. Grieve for what you lost.”

Jon squeezed her hands and shot her a small smile, “I am, it just,” he paused, “it hasn’t sunken in yet I guess.”

And it hadn’t, not really. They’d been separated for longer on missions or when Damian was filling in for managing Bruce. Jon knew it would soon enough though, the longer he went without a phone call from Damian or the click of Titus’s nails on the hardwood floor.

She sighed but nodded, “Well, how about you come over for a home cooked meal tonight, hm? Your dad is home from his latest _assignment_.”

His mom said assignment but she meant mission. He’d been called to the Watchtower for a mission with Batman a few days ago. Jon wasn’t sure if his dad had meant Damian or Bruce but he hadn’t asked. Tried not to care.

Jon thought the offer over, thought about how good his mom’s food was and how lonely his new place was. It wasn’t much of a competition, nor was it a hardship to agree to be at his parent’s house by 7 for dinner.

With a wave goodbye, he left her office and made his way back down to his own desk were his pathetically made sandwich was waiting for him. He stared down at it, shoulders dropping as he went to pull it from the plastic bag he’d shoved it in that morning. He and Damian used to argue all weekend about what lunches for the week would be and then like clockwork every evening before patrol they’d prepare their lunches for the week together. He hadn’t done that once since he’d moved out. Couldn’t bring himself to.

“So,” a voice said, pulling Jon from his thoughts. When he looked up he met eyes with Jeremy, another first-year reporter and his next desk neighbor.

“So,” Jon returned, grateful for the distraction.

“I heard through the grape-vine that someone, not naming any names,” Jeremy gave him a pointed look at that, “was single and ready to mingle.”

“Oh really?” Jon asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. He just prayed that Jeremy wasn’t talking about him. Single as Jon was he was definitely not ready to mingle.

“Mm-hm,” Jeremy hummed in agreement, shifting closer to Jon, “So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to maybe mingle with me? Say to the movies Saturday?”

Jon swallowed but shook his head slowly, “Jeremy your great but I’m really not ready to mingle just yet,” and seeing Jeremy’s let down expression, he couldn’t stop, “Maybe some other time?” From slipping through his lips.

Dammit. He knew he hated letting people down but man, he just really had to go for gold, didn’t he?

Jeremy perked back up, “Oh right, sure, I understand,” he hesitated, “Um, maybe when you are ready, you could let me know? I’d really like to get to know you more.”

Okay, so Jeremy really knew how to stroke a guy’s ego. And he was sweet. And he was giving Jon the attention that he’d been missing lately.

Which is why it was so easy to flash a smile and say, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The rest of the day passed quickly after that because he spent most of the afternoon trying to forget the way Jeremy’s smile lit up his face when Jon said that he’d like to go on a date with him eventually. It made him look handsome in a way Jon had never noticed before. But then again it was hard to notice how attractive other people were when he was dating a bombshell like Damian Wayne.

Once it hit three Jon shut his computer off, stretched his back—pretended to ignore the way Jeremy eyed the curve of his spine—and pulled his phone out. He still had some time to kill before he had to be at his parents’ place for dinner but he really didn’t feel like going all the way home, so he figured he could catch a movie. There was something that he’d been wanting to see, he remembered, but the name kept escaping him.

Idly he pulled up a list of currently out movies and scrolled through the names and summaries. It was some over the top action movie about ninjas, he was ninety percent certain. He fist pumped to himself when he finally found the title; it was starting soon but he had enough time to get to the theater, get popcorn, and get a seat before the previews ever started.

It was weird, Jon noted absently, paying for his own movie ticket. Whenever he and Damian had gone to the movies together, Damian had always paid for the tickets and Jon had paid for the snacks (seeing as how Jon _always_ ate more then Damian did). Selecting seats was also a different experience; Damian always wanted to sit as far away from everyone as possible and Jon always agreed because he’d never really had a location preference. This time, however, he picked a seat smack dab in the middle of the row higher up in the middle section for an optimal viewing experience.

Jon couldn’t help but heave a sigh as the credits started to roll. The movie wasn’t bad, but halfway through he’d remembered that he hadn’t really wanted to see the film, it had been a movie Damian had made a comment about wanting to see and Jon had agreed to go because it was so rare that Damian wanted to do things outside of kicking ass and taking names. Also, he’d gotten too much popcorn and he wasn’t that big of a fan of the brand of soda he’d selected; it was just a habit, seeing as how it was his and Damian’s compromise soda. Jon always wanted to get blue slushies but Damian constantly tried to insist on water—they’d figured at least with a soda neither of them got their way.

The half full popcorn bag felt like lead and Jon couldn’t help but drag his feet as he trudged home, trying not to think about anything at all. A quick change of clothes and he was out the door and on the bus to his parents’ small house. The bus stop was still a mile away from his parents’ small suburb but Jon was hoping that a walk through his old neighborhood would clear his head some.

Lois was hunched over, sliding something out of the oven when Jon let himself in, so he was careful not to startle her as he took a spot at the table.

“So how was work?” She asked, and Jon grinned when she sat the piping hot pie down on the stove’s top.

Jon shrugged but could feel the heat rushing to his face, “Good, good, um.” He paused but pushed on, “Jeremy asked me out today.”

Her turn was slow, like something out of a horror movie, and Jon suddenly felt a little nervous. Her eyebrow was cocked and a mischievous smile curled at her lips, “Oh really?”

A nod was her answer because nerves clogged his throat. Maybe telling her wasn’t the best idea.

“And what did you say?”

Jon shrugged, “Not yet, I’m not ready yet, but I told him I’d let him know when I was.”

The smirk softened into a smile, “That’s a good idea honey, give it a little time but you can’t dwell on Damian forever.”

The thing about it was, Jon kind of wanted to, sometimes. He loved Damian, had for years, and he knew the other man had loved him to; had never doubted it for a second. Even now, a part of him was holding out and waiting for the other man to call.

But he knew his mom was right, he couldn’t wait forever on Damian, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “I know.”

His mom nodded and let the matter drop. It was easy to move on from there and Jon was happy to chat until his dad got home. Clark’s arrival was boisterous and he squeezed Jon in a tight hug before floating over to kiss Lois on the cheek.

Clark with more tact than Jon was honestly used to, avoided talking about more than the bare bones of his mission and said little on the topic of Batman, for which Jon was grateful. Overall dinner was a delicious and smooth affair and Jon left with the promise to come back soon.

Clark pulled him in to one last hug before Jon left and squeezed him tight enough to break human bones, “It’ll be alright,” he whispered so low that even Jon barely heard him.

“I know,” Jon returned, holding his dad just as tight, “People have been surviving heartbreak for years, I will too.”

Dad chuckled and sat him back down, “That’s my boy.”

The house seemed less lonely with the memory of his parents so close and Jon held it tight as he brushed his teeth. Out of spite he left the cap of the toothpaste tube off and the lights on as he left the bathroom. Even with the bedroom light off the light of the bathroom was bright enough for Jon to read by.

He’d been working on reading it for a handful of weeks but it had been hard to focus on. Instead his mind kept wandering back to the way the bed felt too big and too cold, but tonight he was going to make an honest attempt to power through it; if only to keep the empty, half here feeling of incompleteness away. For so long he’d been part of a set: Superboy and Robin, The Super Sons, Jon and Damian, never one without the other. And now. Now he was just Jon Kent, intrepid reporter in training. Now he just felt dead inside in a way that he never knew could exist.

He managed to finish the chapter and put the book down, and slipped under the covers. Tomorrow would be a better day, hopefully.

It wasn’t. Neither was the next day. Which is how Jon found himself at three a.m. in the morning staring down at a cup of coffee. Talking to it.

“This is stupid,” he said, watching the creamer lighten the harsh black into a lighter tan color, “He broke up with me, he’s not thinking about me, so why am I spending so much time thinking about him?”

The cup remained silent.

“You’re right, I need to get over it, my pity party has lasted long enough.”

With that in mind he slammed the coffee back and left the cup on the table before he crawled back into bed. Tomorrow he was going to hit Jeremy up on that date.

And that was that. He was officially moved on, had a date with a new guy on Saturday, had had a fantastic day at work on Friday, everything was finally starting to look up.

Until his cell rang.

Should’ve checked the caller id, but he hadn’t. Instead Jon had answered it with a cheerful, “Hello!”

“Jon,” the sound of Damian’s smooth, deep voice made him weak in the knees.

“Damian,” he returned, trying to sound uncaringly neutral. He hoped, desperately, that this was just a bad dream.

“You,” he trailed off and cleared his throat, “You’ve received a few letters.”

Jon waited a beat but Damian had fallen silent, so he picked up the conversation. The sooner this nightmare was over the better. “Yeah? Sorry about that, I thought I’d gotten everything changed over to come to my new apartment.”

“I’ll be in Metropolis this weekend on Wayne Enterprise business, would you like me to swing by Saturday and drop them off?”

“Oh, uh,” his heart was about to break his ribcage it was pounding so hard, “I’m actually not going to be here Saturday, if you want you can just hand them off to my dad.”

Maybe he wanted to prove to Damian he was over him, or maybe it was just nerves, but he could only freeze in horror as, “I’ve got a date tomorrow,” fell from his lips.

Stupid!

Why would Damian give a damn about that?

He could hear Damian swallow over the phone, “Oh really?”

It was just his imagination telling him that there was a tremor in Damian’s voice.

“Yeah, a guy from work,” Why did he do this to himself? Why couldn’t he keep his trap shut?

  “I see,” the voice on the other end of the line suddenly sounded flat, “Moved on already, huh?”

How dare he? Jon saw red.

“Fuck you, Damian,” he snapped, “You broke up with me, remember? So you don’t get to have an opinion on what I do,” and because he was feeling malicious he added, “Or who.”

He didn’t give Damian the chance to respond, he hung up with a jab to the ‘end call button.’ It was so hard it cracked the glass. Great. Now he needed a new phone.

With a watery huff, he sat the phone down and dropped down on the couch. He wouldn’t cry over this. He was done crying over Damian.

Despite his wishes his eyes watered, spilled over, and tears slipped down his cheeks. Feeling like a child he pulled his knees up to his chest, buried his face in the cradle of his knees, and sobbed like he hadn’t since he was a child.

It felt like some part of him had died. Some small, hopeful part of him had still dreamed that Damian would change his mind; had still believed that they were meant to be together.

Feeling hopeless and lost he let himself cry, let the catharsis that his tears brought settle over him.  Tomorrow he’d be better, stronger. He’d put himself together and be done with Damian, but tonight he would cry and he’d mourn.

He fell asleep on the couch, tears drying on his face.

The ringing of the doorbell is what woke him up. A quick glance at his clock showed him that it was barely eight in the evening. Too early to be morning but too late for a visitor. Frowning he scrubbed his face roughly, made himself just presentable enough to answer the door with a rude ‘go away,’ and pushed himself off the couch.

“Excuse me but—” he started but the words died on his tongue as he saw who was on the other side.

Damian Wayne stood there in a rumbled suit with a large bouquet of flowers in his hand.

No. Oh hell no.

He didn’t even let the other man talk before he slammed the door closed and locked it. Sprinting to the bedroom he threw himself down on the bed and buried his head in his pillows. He wasn’t doing this. It wasn’t happening. He was still passed out on the couch with snot and tears smeared across his face.

He flinched when the bed shifted, of course Damian Wayne, master of the fucking universe, wouldn’t take a slammed door as the ‘do not enter’ it was meant to be. He probably picked the lock. Asshole.

A strong and calloused hand ran over his head and down his neck, it slipped around and under Jon’s chin, tugging lightly to get Jon to look at him.

He did. Couldn’t not look at Damian. Met the other’s own red rimmed eyes. Damian’s bags had bags and he looked like he hadn’t slept in decades.

“Don’t go on that date tomorrow.”

Jon tugged his face out of Damian’s hand and turned his face away but didn’t roll back over on to his stomach.

“Why not?” He asked the wall.

“Please.”

And wasn’t that a rare phrase to hear.

“Tell me why not?” Jon insisted, refusing to fold.

“Because I love you.” It was blunt, simple and factual.

Jon snorted, “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, I’m going on that date tomorrow.”

That warm hand slipped under his chin again and the next thing he was aware off was the lips that had captured his own. Jon let himself fall into it, but only for a second. It was his goodbye kiss.

Or it was supposed to be, but Damian’s taste, his gentleness, overtook Jon the way his kisses always did.

“Fuck you,” Jon breathed as Damian pulled away.

“I love you,” Damian whispered against his lips.

“Then why did you tell me to leave? Why did you hurt me?”

Damian winced, “I didn’t mean to,” he whispered and it was his turn to look away.

Jon scoffed but Damian ignored him and continued.

“I could give you so many reasons. I’d thought about it for months. You were working in Metropolis but living in Gotham, you’d never dated anyone besides me and you needed time to grow on your own, I thought it was what was best for you, God I could give you a million reasons but none of them matter.”

And wasn’t that just like a Wayne to think they know what’s best for everyone? It left a bitter taste in the back of his mouth but he wasn’t surprised. He’d known Damian too long to be surprised.

“They matter to me, Damian, you mattered to me.”

Damian seemed to wither in on himself, “Mattered.”

Jon couldn’t take it, the look on Jon’s face, the broken curl of his shoulders.

“Damn you,” Jon snarled, “You know I love you. Does it make you feel better to hear me say it? Does it stroke your ego?”

“No,” Damian whispered, pressing his forehead against Jon’s, who allowed the contact, “But it does sooth the jagged edges of my soul were my heart used to be. You took it with you when you left.”

“Pretty words from the man who kicked me out of my home,” Jon resisted.

“I ripped my heart out when I told you to leave, Jon,” Damian pleaded, “I’ve felt nothing but cold for weeks. Please, let me make it up to you. Take me back.”

Jon weighed his options carefully. He could say no, make Damian leave right now, but. But that would be cutting off his nose to spite his face. He still loved Damian, was miserable without him. Knew, deep in his soul that they belonged together. But. But could he swallow down the hurt and misery to give him another chance.

He stared at Damian for a long time. The other’s gaze never wavered, he let Jon search his eyes until Jon was satisfied with what he found.

“Okay,” Jon said finally, but pushed on before Damian could open his mouth, “Okay, one more chance.  But I’m not moving back in. Not yet.”

Damian nodded.

“And you’re going to spend the rest of your life making this up to me.”

A smile bloomed across Damian’s face and he pressed tightly to Jon, “That sounds perfect. I think I should start tomorrow, say, with a date?”

Jon couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his own face, or the way his arms reached up to wrap around Damian. He’d missed the way they fit together. The way that they had always fit together, like they were meant for each other.

Despite himself he let Damian stay the night, let him slip under his covers and curl around him, face pressed against the back of Jon’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! I'll probably be posted more JonDami in the future.


End file.
